


Awakening

by Rey_Lo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, F/M, Falling In Love, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Forced Orgasm, Hand & Finger Kink, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rey is 18, Then Enthusiastic Consent, Vaginal Fingering, Virgin Rey (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26687053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rey_Lo/pseuds/Rey_Lo
Summary: Doctor Benjamin Solo is tasked by his mentor Lord Snoke to treat the mysterious Miss Johnson for hysteria by 'pelvic massage'.Intrigued by his patient, can he stop himself from performing other 'treatments' to cure her affliction?And can he stop himself developing more than professional feelings for her?
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59
Collections: House Dadam A-Z Kink Collection





	Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the House Dadam A-Z Kink Collection. I'm very excited to be publishing this as part of the collection and please check out the other amazing fics in the collection. 
> 
> The kink that I chose was fingering. This fic is based on a treatment for the condition 'hysteria', pelvic massage, that was used in the late 1890's along with other questionable treatments! I have taken some artistic licence too!
> 
> Hysteria was a common medical diagnosis for women, which was used to explain a wide array of symptoms, most of which were synonymous with normal female sexuality. Hysteria was still used as a diagnosis up until 1952. 
> 
> Thank you so much to [Andrina_Nightshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andrina_Nightshade/pseuds/Andrina_Nightshade) for reading over this work for me and also making my gorgeous mood board. I cant thank you enough for your support! Please check out her amazing works too!

### 

Chapter One

“Ah, there you are my good and faithful apprentice. May I see you in my room Benjamin.” Doctor Benjamin Solo can feel himself bristle at Lord Snoke’s words. His Lordship never fails, every day to make it explicitly clear the subservient role that exists between them. As if Benjamin has not become a physician on his own merits before he came to work under his Lordships tutelage. He does, however, manage to mask his abhorrence to his employer’s words. His ascendance in his chosen profession will be greatly enhanced by Lord Snoke’s favour and he does not want to injure his prospects.

  


Benjamin takes a seat on the other side of the vast mahogany desk that dominates his Lordship’s room, folding himself into the chair that errs on the wrong side of comfortable for his long, broad frame. It is late afternoon and no more patients will enter the private practice of his Lordship. Lord Snoke pours him and Benjamin a brandy each and then takes a cigar for himself from the silver cigar box that resides on his desk before offering one to Benjamin. Benjamin accepts and there are a few minutes silence as the men enjoy the Cuban cigars that his Lordship favours.

  


At length, his Lordship speaks. “I have an interesting case for you Benjamin. One that requires your expertise and your discretion. I was summoned by an old acquaintance this afternoon. He has, for several years, been the guardian of his granddaughter. Her parents were both lost in Shanghai and she has returned to live with him after their deaths. He describes her as always being fanciful, but she has recently begun to exhibit symptoms that have alarmed him.”

  


Benjamin exhales his cigar smoke. “What symptoms is the young lady experiencing?” he asks intrigued. Lord Snoke’s clients are invariably married or widowed ranging from middle-aged to elderly. He has never applied Snoke’s technique to a younger, unmarried female.

  


“The young lady displays some common symptoms - irritability, lack of appetite and insomnia. Her emotions can be quite ungoverned at times. She has periods of melancholia where she has little interest in her usual daily accomplishments. These are contrasted with periods of intense passion where she exhibits destructive tendencies and plays the piano, particularly Beethoven, with an astonishing fervour.”

  


Benjamin frowns ever so slightly. Hysteria is a well-documented condition of the female psyche and one that Lord Snoke has earned his reputation for treating with his **technique**. One physician has attributed seventy-five symptoms to hysteria alone, but the more Benjamin reads and studies the condition, the more sceptical he is becoming of its actual existence at all. “Perhaps the young lady is especially fond of Beethoven which is why she plays so passionately.” He ventures. _Surely a tendency towards vigorous piano playing does not indicate an impediment of the mind_ , Ben thinks.

  


Snoke fixes him with a filmy blue eye. “The lady has also been experiencing hallucinatory phenomena.” His says, his voice slightly sharper. “She speaks of other worlds and of people that do not exist. In addition to this she draws and writes about them. She states that she dreams about these places and people, that they come to her in visions in the night. I have seen the writings that she has done after she has experienced these hallucinations. They are rather startling and could be construed by some as blasphemous in their nature. I fear that the poor girl is not far from complete loss of her mental faculties.”

  


“And you wish to treat her with the usual technique?”

  


“The lady’s grandfather is most anxious that committal to an asylum or sanitorium is avoided. On coming of age, the lady stands to inherit a large fortune from her late father’s estate. She is to be presented at Court this year and her grandfather would of course like to see her comfortably settled in a suitable marriage and to have her own household in time. He has asked for my assistance in this matter to avoid further descent into ill health. I have arranged with him that she is brought here tomorrow to start treatment from yourself.”

  


Benjamin sits up straighter in his chair. “You wish me to perform the treatment?” he asks with a note of incredulity creeping into his voice. “I take it the lady being unmarried, is a maid? That she is untouched? Surely a less invasive treatment would be indicated in this situation. I hardly think she will consent to this treatment!”

  


The genial façade that Lord Snoke usually cultivates begins to slip. “The lady in question is under the guardianship of her Grandfather and he has requested my assistance in this matter. I have diagnosed that the young lady is suffering from hysteria and I ask **you** , my faithful apprentice, to perform the treatment. The girl’s consent is not required. Her grandfather has given his consent for the treatment to occur. If you think this is beneath you Dr Solo, then I suggest you return to the backwater where I found you! I’m sure your mother and uncle would welcome you back to live in obscurity, tending to the thieves, vagrants and whores that they associate with!” His Lordship bangs a clenched fist on the desk in front of him.

  


Benjamin can feel his anger rising at Lord Snoke’s mention of his family, of the place he has left behind and the persona he has so desperately tried to cast off but, sensing dangerous territory, he attempts to swallow it down. “Sir, I merely suggest, that given the young lady’s position and status that perhaps your expert knowledge of the technique would render you in the best position to deliver it.”

  


“There is a connection to this lady, that precludes my involvement with the case.” Snoke lowers his voice, a thin veneer of civility masking the anger in his voice. “Do you know that when I found you, Benjamin Solo, I saw what all mentors wish to see. Intelligence, confidence, passion but in you I also saw a thirst. A thirst for greatness and eminence and a hint of moral ambiguity on how to achieve this. Your grandfather was an excellent physician. Perhaps some of his methods may have been, shall we say, **controversial** , but that is sometimes necessary to achieve renown. In you, I see the same thirst that he had to advance our profession, our knowledge. Do not make me regret the faith I have placed in you.”

  


Benjamin looks down so his mentor cannot see the ire in his eyes. His eyes have always given him away in the past, too like his mothers, which she was often inclined to allude to in his youth. He can, however, feel a pulsing under his left eye, the twitch that accompanies his anger, but he stays silent. Better not to answer back like a petulant child.

  


“Treat the girl. I am given you six sessions. If there is no improvement in her symptoms, more drastic treatment will have to be considered and our professional relationship will also have to be reviewed.” With that Lord Snoke waves his hand in dismissal. 

  


***

  


He has cast a wary eye at the carriage clock on the mantle in his office throughout the day, watching the hands slowly turn towards the time when this favoured patient will attend. Now the hands point to five minutes before she is due to arrive. Ben rests his head on his left hand, then looks down at the note from Snoke that sits before him on his desk. The note details Snoke’s instructions regarding the patient. Ben is not to know her real identity – a pseudonym will be used, and she is always to remain veiled throughout the appointment. He may only ask her questions that pertain to her health and the treatment. He must not ask anything beyond that.

  


He eyes follow Snoke’s cursive writing to the last sentence. **He must perform the treatment to its conclusion, no matter how the girl responds.**

  


He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. His sleep the previous night had been punctuated by dreams. Dreams of Snoke, holding him by the throat, telling him to submit to his will while Ben struggled to breathe. Dreams of his mother writing letter after letter at her desk to powerful men, trying to help the poor families she cares for and walking among them dispensing food and comforting words in equal measure, hiding away her own sadness. Dreams of rolling bandages in the dispensary with his uncle, reciting the names of skeletal bones, his uncle correcting him gently when he made an error.

  


Dreams in which he heard his Uncle repeat the words “First do no harm.” He had awakened then with a start, the sweat that was lashing off him, rapidly cooling in the chill of the early morning air, trying again to justify both his past and present actions.

  


His thoughts are interrupted by the chimes of the carriage clock. It is time.

  


As if on cue, he can hear a carriage pull up in the street outside the townhouse which accommodates Lord Snoke’s practice. He stands to straighten his jacket and cravat (despite their estrangement, he cannot quite shake his mother’s counsel on manners and the importance of being properly attired). The windows of his room afford him a view of the street below and he takes the opportunity to try and capture a glimpse out the window of the young woman who seems to be fast becoming a thorn in his side. He sees a figure clad in black being assisted from the carriage by another female, a servant of some description, but any further view is obscured as they quickly make their way into the house.

  


As he hears the low rumble of conversation echoing from the hall below, he can feel his heart rate pick up and the ball of nerves in his stomach, that has threatened him all day, begins to roll. _Keep it together, Solo!_ He tells himself, clenching his fists. _Do this well and Snoke will reward you._

  


There is a brisk knock at the door and then it is opened with Nurse Kandia announcing “Dr Solo, your next patient Sir.”

  


With a rustling of silk, a figure enters the room, closely followed by her companion. A few steps into the room she stops, hesitating in her progress as she looks up at him. She almost seems to startle at the sight of him, as if she is a frightened doe who has glimpsed her hunter.

  


Despite the adornments on her dress, that have been undoubtedly added to give the illusion of curves, he can determine that her figure is small and slender. A black veil has been employed to obscure her face, but he can glimpse enough through it to note that her features are delicate. “Please take a seat.” he ventures, indicating the visitors chair at the other side of his desk. She acknowledges his request with a single nod of her head and takes the seat, perching to allow for the skirts she wears, her posture correct. Her breeding and upbringing overcoming the uncertainty about the situation she is undoubtedly feeling. He takes his own seat, whilst her attendant takes a seat further back, in the corner of the room. Kandia shuts the door gently as she exits.

  


“May I introduce myself. I am Doctor Solo. I am a junior partner of Lord Snoke and will be performing your treatment today.” He tries to keep his voice gentle, reassuring. “I believe you are aware, that due to the discretion your grandfather has requested, I am not to be made aware of your true identity and a pseudonym is to be used. Can I enquire what you wish to be addressed as?”

  


Her voice is soft but clear. “You may call me Miss… Miss Johnson.”

  


He nods in acknowledgement. “I believe you have been examined by Lord Snoke at your own residence.” Again, she concurs with a slight nod. “He has made a diagnosis of hysteria and has tasked me with treating you. Lord Snoke has developed a treatment that has had noted success in curing the symptoms that you have presented with. “  
“I understand this Doctor Solo but Lord Snoke was not forthcoming about the nature of the treatment to be administered.” Through the veil, she fixes her eyes on him with a sharp stare. “I also do not believe that I am… **hysterical.** ”

  


“Lord Snoke has discussed the treatment with your guardian, I understand, and the have decided that this is the best course of treatment. I have been let to believe that you have experienced visual hallucinations. Perhaps you would like to acquaint me with what they consist of?” he ventures. Snoke has made it clear that he wants this treatment done and Ben will be damned before he allows this slip of a girl prevent it.

  


She looks away then and he can sense that she is uneasy about this direction he has taken. “They are simply dreams. Dreams and imaginings that do no harm.”

  


“It may improve the treatment if I had a sense of their form.” he ventures.

  


Again, she fixes him with a sharp gaze. “I dream of worlds in the cosmos, Sir. Of vibrant worlds and strange beings that do not exist. I have a compulsion to write what I dream. My stories do not harm to anyone, except myself it would seem. I do not seek to share them. Why, H.G. Wells has only this year published a novel about an extra-terrestrial race, has he not? Does he suffer from hysteria as well? Would he be treated as I am to be?”

  


Benjamin is rather taken aback from the forcefulness of this argument and from a woman of such tender years. Behind Miss Johnson, he can see her maidservant has a wry smile on her face, as if she is proud of her Mistress’s defence of herself. He groans inwardly. This is not going the way he thought it would. Although her description of her imaginings intrigues him, he decides its best to try a different tack.

  


“The treatment is a pelvic massage. I can give reassurance that it is most safe, Miss Johnson. The object of the treatment is to achieve what is termed an ‘hysterical paroxysm’. This will return the uterus to its proper alignment, thus curing the symptoms that have been attributed to your condition. Perhaps, I may ask some questions of a more medical nature. You age, if you please, Miss Johnson?”

  


“I am eighteen, Doctor.”

  


Barely out of the school room and ten years younger than his own age. “At what age did you experience your first menstruation and are they of regular occurrence?”

  


She looks down again, the delicacy of the question affecting her. “I was fourteen and they… they do not follow a regular pattern.”

  


“I understand that you are unmarried. Have you ever lain with a man or indulged in any intimate relations?” He can feel a slight heat within him rising and he tries to swallow it down lest it shows on his face.

  


Her voice is spiked with indignation as her eyes resolutely meet his. “Never!”

  


“Very good, Miss Johnson. If you may step behind the screen, I will need you to undress down to your undergarments. You may leave your chemise and your corset in place, but I will need to access to your abdominal region. As per the agreement with your guardian, you may leave your hat and veil in place. Once ready, please lie on the couch and I will attend you.”

  


“May my Lady’s maid assist me in undressing?”

  


“Of course.”

  


“Tico.” She turns in her chair, to where her maid was sitting. “Please, come and attend me.”

  


He allows them a few moments behind the screen before going to wash his hands. Above the sink is a mirror and as he gazes into it, while he soaps his hands, he realises he is afforded a view of the screen. He can see their shadows beyond the screen and hear their low gentle voices of instruction to one another. He feels himself to be curiously affected by the treatment that he is to administer on this young lady, although it is the norm for him to do this procedure several times a day. However, this is to women who are, overall, older and who have lain with their husbands in the context of marriage. Most of them have also enjoyed the blessing of children.

  


This young lady, however, is a maid, untouched by another. Ben is a tall man, and as such his hands are in proportion and rather large. Looking down at his long digits, the thought occurs to him that her sex will be tight, and he may have to breach her hymen. The thought both excites and repulses him in equal measure – the physician in him repulsed that he may cause her unnecessary pain and the man in him excited by knowing that he will be the first to enter his fingers into her taut core and his cock twitches in response. The baser sense in him is only exacerbated when she emerges behind the screen in her undergarments, the skin of her shoulders and arms exposed by the thin straps of her chemise. Although loosened, her corset still accentuates the small curve of her breast and gentle undulation of her waist and hips. She is not curvaceous, as current fashion would dictate, but her petite frame, rather excites him more.

  


He closes his eyes as she begins to lie on the bed, mainly to try and stop the blood flowing towards his own sex. _Keep it together, Solo!_ he thinks again, repeating his mantra from earlier. _You are a member of an elite profession, not a sexual deviant. Snoke will not be pleased if it emerges that you terrified his favoured patient with a hard dick._ He starts to do what he always does to calm himself in such situations, repeat the Latin terms of an anatomic system. Today he starts with the heart but before he gets too far, he hears her sweet voice once more.

  


“I’m ready, Doctor Solo.”

  


He makes his way over to the examining couch where she lies in repose under a thin cover provided for modesty. She has pulled the cover up to her shoulders, the material clasped between her fingers. Her knuckles are white, and he realises that he must get her to relax, at least a little, if a paroxysm is ever hoped to be achieved. Near her like this, he can pick out more of her features that further please him. Her skin is more golden than he had appreciated before, when she was clothed, with a smattering of freckles dusting her shoulders. The veil obscures their true colour, but he observes that her eyes are dark, as is her hair. This, he can surmise from the hazel tendril that has loosened from her hair pins and is curling on to the nape of her neck.

  


“Please, try to relax Miss Johnson. There is no risk to your wellbeing and the aftereffects of the treatment have been described as quite exhilarating.” He addresses her gently to try and encourage her compliance for the act he needs to commit. She acquiesces with a nod.

  


“May I ask that your attendant wait in the foyer now? For the treatment to meet a timely and effective conclusion, it would be preferable.” The maid scowls at him as he says this, but her mistress gently dismisses her from the room. “I am sure I will be quite alright for now Tico. Doctor Solo, I’m sure will call you if I require it.”

  


“Very good, my lady.” Tico bobs a curtsey at her mistress but gives Ben a further scowl as she passes him.

  


Once Tico shuts the door behind her, he turns his attention once more to Miss Johnson. “I am going to place your feet in these stirrups, Miss Johnson. Will that be agreeable?” she nods again, and he reaches under the lower end of the coverlet. His hand gently grasps her silk covered ankle, his fingertips feeling the delicate bones of her ankle, then smoothly manipulates it into place, securing it to the stirrup. He does this same action with the other and her legs naturally fall open under the covering.

  


He applies a generous amount of oil to the fingers of his right hand. Lubrication will be key to him gaining the required entry to her core. It is Snoke’s own concoction – musk oil mixed with oil of lily which fills the room with a pleasurable aroma. He can feel her eyes upon him. “What is that for?” she asks with curiosity.

  


“This will help the internal massage of your genitals.”

  


“The internal massage? You mean to touch me down there?” she cries, panic rising in her voice. “No one has touched me down there!” She tries to bring her legs together but is hindered by stirrups. “Please!” She pleads with him and he can see her eye’s shining with unshed tears. “I am a virgin, untouched.”

  


“Your Grandfather has authorised this treatment. It is a proven treatment for your condition, Miss Johnson. I have been told that I must administer it.” There is part of him that would like more than anything to let her leave untouched but he knows that they are both trapped on this scenario by master – her Grandfather has asked for the treatment and his employer has ordered it to be completed.

  


He lowers his eyes and his voice. “You would not wish to go against your Grandfathers wishes, would you? If you do not consent to this treatment, he, and Lord Snoke may enforce a more invasive treatment.”

  


A single tear was tracking down her cheek to her chin and he fought against himself to catch it with his thumb. “Will it hurt?” she whispers with trepidation.

  


“There may be an initial pain, but I will try and to ensure that it will only last a few moments and this oil will help that. May I proceed?”

  


“Yes.” She whispers to him.

  


“Palpation of the abdomen requires that I place my hand there. I will do this now.” She offers no objection and he runs his left hand under the cover. He finds the edge of her chemise and lifts it, manoeuvring his hand to cover her abdomen. She jumps slightly as his fingertips brush her bare flesh and her eyes widen as he splays his fingers to span her pelvis. Again, her small stature is highlighted to Ben, when he realises that his hand spans both jutting crests of her pubic bone.

  


He reaches under the covering with his right hand allowing it rest against her left thigh. He feels her shiver from the contact through the hand of her abdomen, but she does not object and he skims his hand up towards her centre, over her drawers. When her reaches the joining of her thighs, he parts the slit in her drawers and enters. His fingers touch the curls that frame her sex at her pubis. He trails his fingers down, past the bump of her clitoris (which elicits a sharp intake of breath from her) to her folds. He runs his fingers up and down her inner fold and she softly mews when he traces the entrance to her hole gently.

  


His voice sounds huskier than its normal tone when he speaks. “I will now insert my finger, Miss Johnson.” There is a sharp intake of breath which he accepts as consent and he looks to see her eyes are closed tightly, her nose screwed up in anticipation of his entry. He takes his own breath in and, as gently as possible, inserts his finger into the core.

  


She cries out and arches her back off the table. Just within her vagina, he encounters the barrier of her hymen. He explores it with his finger to ascertain if there is a small hole present within the membrane, as all the while she whines beneath him. He finds what feels to be a break in the membrane and pushes on as slowly as he can. _God, she’s tight_ he thinks as her muscular walls clamp down on his finger, trying to expel him.

  


“I can’t!” she cries as she tries to pull herself away from him. “It hurts too much!” He does not need to look at her to know she is crying, the tears flowing freely.

  


If he withdraws now, he might as well abandon his profession. Snoke would ensure that he would never practice in these circles again, no matter how far he travelled. “Please Miss Johnson, only a few more moments and the pain will lessen. Distraction may help this. Why don’t you tell me of your dreams?”

  


“My… my dreams?” she gasps, writhing under the hand on her abdomen.

  


“Yes, your dreams. Please tell me one.”

  


“There is a forest and th-there is s-snow falling. The forest f-floor is b-blanketed with snow.” He advances his finger further into her canal. She whimpers, but then resumes. “Th-there is two figures fighting in the sn-snow. One is male, **oh… oh,** and he is cloaked in b-black. **Oh my!** He wears a m-mask also.” He slides further up until he reaches the smooth walls of her cervix and she moans as his finger makes contact then withdraws further down her channel. “He-He is a cr-creature in a-A MASK!” She makes a keening sound as he applies a firm pressure to her abdomen while simultaneously rubbing the outermost wall of her core. “There is also a g-girl. She is d-dressed in strange clothing. It is dr-draped around her. **Oh my!** ” He continues to rub her, his ministrations eliciting her own wetness that coats his finger. He looks at her face. Her eyes are still closed, a delicious blush suffusing the skin of her neck and the small area of her face revealed to him.

  


Her body becomes more pliant under his hands. Her vagina no longer fighting him but stretching around his digit, allowing him easier movement though she is no less tight. He can feel his own arousal spiking with each small moan she makes, his own body responding to what he is doing to hers.

  


“Th-they are fighting with strange swords. S-Swords of light. His is red and the females blue, but they n-never stop fighting. Th-they keep on doing their strange dance, but t-they never keep fighting! Oh my… Doctor Solo… something is happening!” she gasps, her voice a mixture of fear but also wonder. “Mmm…mmm.” She is now biting down on her bottom lip and the sight of her delicate teeth biting down on her soft lips, has his cock thickening in his trousers, straining to be released.

  


Her hips start to move, quickly matching the pace he has set, her clenched fists squeezing the material of the coverlet in their grasp, with more severity. Her core is burning around his finger, the slick she is producing dripping out of her onto his hand. He crooks his finger ever so slightly within, which elicits a hiss from Miss Johnson but causes her to buck even harder onto his finger. That’s the spot, he thinks.

  


“Please…please Doctor Solo!” she cries and although its not part of the technique, Ben presses the pad of his thumb against the bundle of nerves at the apex of her split, allowing her own hip movements to cause his digit to rub against the swollen pearl he can feel there. “Let go…” he whispers.

  


The effect is instantaneous. Her back arches and her eyes fly open to lock with his as she moans loudly. He feels a gush of fluid and the muscles of her cunt fluttering around his finger as he slows down the momentum of his ministrations, allowing her to ride out the paroxysm. Her eyes never leave his as her body continues to tremor, and he can see through the veil that her pupils are blown wide with what she has experienced. She releases her lip and a small rivulet of blood trickles from it, her teeth having bit down to far in her ecstasy.

  


The sound of heavy breathing fills the space between them. He realises that it is not just her breathing he can hear but his own in perfect syncope with hers. “What… was that?” she whispers.

  


“That was a hysterical paroxysm.” he says as he – reluctantly – withdraws his finger. He can feel further moisture drip from her hole after his withdrawal, falling both on his hand and onto her own skin below. A perverse thought flits across his mind as he imagines her slick coating her thighs when she walks out the door of his office, her damp drawers against her skin as she sits on the carriage ride home, reminding her of what has occurred. _Be a professional!_ He reminds himself. Removing both hands from underneath the covers he asks, “How do you feel?”

  


“It was a rather queer feeling… when it was happening. Rather like I was being pulled tighter and tighter until I snapped. Or as if I were falling from a great precipice.” her voice is breathier, huskier. The skin that he can see is flushed, a delicious sheen to it from the thin layer of sweat that the paroxysm has produced. He dearly wishes he could see remove the veil and gaze upon her bare face, but he exercises restraint.

  


“And now, what do you feel?”

  


She thinks for a few moments. “As if I have been broken and remade all at once. My skin is… tingling. Especially **there** , but all over too and it is almost as if my bones have quite left me. I feel awake and alive but also rather tired, as if I could fall into a deep sleep. As if I were Sleeping Beauty herself.”

  


He slightly smiles at that description. She runs her tongue along her lower lip, grimacing slightly when she runs along the break in the skin her teeth have caused. “Here, take this.” he says, taking out the pocket square from his jacket pocket with his unsoiled hand. She accepts it and dabs it to her lip. He releases her ankles from the stirrups, then goes to wash his hands. He notes the presence of blood on the finger he penetrated her with, causing a further surge of desire to his manhood. He is grateful the length of his jacket goes some way to disguising his arousal. Once done, he turns back to her. She has sat up on the edge of the couch, the coverlet still clutched in her hands to protect her modesty. She is watching him intently and for a few brief quiet moments, it feels as if the world contracts to just them, in this moment. He wants to say something to her, but what could he say that would not take them across the barrier of patient and physician that before this moment felt blurred. Reluctantly, he does what is expected of him.

  


“I will fetch your Lady’s maid and you may dress.” She nods and he exits the room, calling out to Kandia that his patient desires the attendance of her maid before entering the door of the adjacent water closet.

  


He is still hard, but he resists the temptation to stoke himself lest he be found, wanking himself off in his patron’s bathroom. Closing his eyes, he recites the bones of the foot in his head, trying not to let the images of their encounter enter his mind. He has never been so affected by another. Even in his personal life he has a reputation for restraint and detachment. Certainly, he has never had this reaction to a patient.

  


Once he feels the danger has safely passed, he returns to his office. She is just emerging from the screen, dressed again as the well-bred young woman that is her station and it feels like an invisible barrier now exists between them once more.

  


He clears his throat. “You may feel rather tired for the rest of the day that should pass. There may also be some bleeding from… well the genital area, but that too should pass in two or three days at most.” He is glad his hair covers most of his ears, that he can feel turning pink as he speaks. “I will repeat the treatment in seven days. Goodbye Miss Johnson.” He bows his head in salutation.

  


“Good day Doctor Solo” she returns and with a rustle of silken skirts, she is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> [This excellent article explains the pelvic massage treatment and hysteria in general. Please be aware that it contains some very strange diagrams too from the time!](https://inews.co.uk/opinion/comment/victorian-doctors-were-not-using-vibrators-on-female-patients-it-was-even-stranger-than-that-221027)
> 
> Please come and say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ReyLo74042319)


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